Between Us

☆ part fifty one ☆

The drive felt longer than it should have, the hum of the engine and the faint sound of the tires against the road filling the silence between my dad and me. I stared out the window, letting the streetlights blur into soft streaks as we passed. It wasn't until I recognized the familiar bend in the road that my heart began to race. Lark's street. I sat up straighter, glancing at my dad, but he didn't look at me, his hands steady on the wheel, his expression unreadable. I opened my mouth to ask, but something held me back—maybe the lingering emotions from earlier or the way his grip tightened just slightly on the steering wheel as we turned onto her street. It wasn't until we pulled into the driveway, my heart pounding in my chest, that I finally spoke.

"Lark's house?" I asked, my voice soft and incredulous as I turned to him.

He glanced at me and laughed softly, the sound more comforting than I expected. "Karen's house," he corrected, giving me a small smile. "Now come on, grab your bags."  I hesitated for a moment, my mind racing as I tried to process what was happening, but I did as he said, hauling my duffel bag from the back seat. My legs felt like jelly as we walked up to the door, my dad leading the way. He knocked lightly, the sound echoing in the quiet night, and we waited.

The door swung open, and there she was: Karen, Lark's mom. She blinked at us, taking in the sight of my dad and me standing on her doorstep, our faces clearly worn from the night's events. "Stanley?" she asked, her brows furrowing. Her gaze flickered to me briefly, a hint of concern in her eyes.

My dad smiled awkwardly, shifting his weight. "I left Susan," he said simply, his voice steady but soft.

Karen's eyes widened, and then, to my surprise, a wide smile spread across her face. "Finally," she said, almost exhaling the word. She stepped back and gestured for us to come in. "Now get your ass in here, Stan. You have to tell me everything." We stepped inside, the warmth of the house wrapping around me like a blanket. Karen shut the door behind us and turned to me, her expression softening. "Are you okay, sunshine?" she asked gently.

I wanted to say yes. I wanted to tell her I was fine, that I was strong enough to handle all of this, but the truth was written all over my face. "Yeah," I mumbled, my voice barely above a whisper, even as my chest felt heavy with everything I was holding in.

Before she could say anything else, another sound caught my attention. I heard footsteps, and then I saw her—Lark. She wandered out of the living room, her brow furrowed as if she was confused by the voices at the door. When her eyes landed on me, she stopped in her tracks. I could see the surprise in her face, followed quickly by concern, and then something softer, something that made my heart ache in the best way. I couldn't stop the tears that welled up in my eyes. It was Lark. My Lark.

The duffel bag slipped from my shoulder and hit the floor with a soft thud. Before I could think twice, I was running to her, my legs carrying me across the room as if they had a mind of their own. She caught me in her arms, pulling me close and holding me tightly, as if she could shield me from the world. "It's okay, sweet girl," she murmured into my hair, her voice low and soothing. She kissed the top of my head, her hands rubbing slow circles on my back as I cried quietly into her shoulder. "I've got you." I clung to her like a lifeline, my arms wrapped around her so tightly I was sure she could barely breathe, but she didn't let go, not even for a second. For the first time that night, I felt safe.

Across the room, I heard Karen whisper something to my dad, her tone a mix of curiosity and amusement. "Since when was this a thing? I thought she was dating my son."

My dad's voice was quieter, but I caught his reply. "I'll fill you in."

Lark didn't let go of me. Her arms were wrapped so securely around me, like she was anchoring me in place, keeping me from falling apart completely. I buried my face against her shoulder, the scent of her—fresh, warm, so unmistakably Lark—pulling me back from the edge of my breaking heart. For a long moment, it was just us standing there, the room around us blurring into insignificance. I could hear the faint murmur of my dad and Karen talking in the background, but all I could focus on was Lark's steady breathing and the way she held me like I was something fragile yet precious.